


The Road to Heaven

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Childhood Friends, Crisis of Faith, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Priest Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: One night when he's about to close his church, an old friend in distress comes back to Castiel's life.





	The Road to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skitty_the_Great](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitty_the_Great/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Casi!

Castiel put away the mantlepiece and put off the candles next to the altar. The last mass of the day had ended an hour ago, but he had stuck around to hear the confession of several of his parishioners. Mostly small things, little sins of doubt and lack of faith. They didn’t need someone to absolve them: in most cases, they just needed someone to guide them through their little life issues, give them advice and assure them that everything would be fine and God would be watching over them.

He was happy to provide them with it, of course. Even when he himself sometimes found himself staring up at the cross and wondering…

The door closed behind him and footsteps echoed down the hall. Castiel sighed. He was tired, but he didn’t want to turn anyone away who might need help.

“I’m about to close,” he informed the person as he slowly turned around. “If you wish to say a prayer…”

The words got stuck in his mouth.

The woman standing in his church had bleached blonde hair and a tattered appearance: her clothes were creased, as if she had slept on them, and her sneakers were dirty. She was carrying an old, worn out backpack and as she approached him, he noticed her face was pale, except for a several days old large bruise that covered most of her right cheek.

He hadn’t seen her in ten years, but she smiled at him and it was like no time had passed at all.

“Meg,” he called out, his stomach flipping at the sight of her.

“Hello, Clarence,” she said. Her voice sounded rougher. “Long time no see.”

 

* * *

 

He didn’t ask her any questions when she said she needed a place to stay the night. He simply guided her to his clergy home and started preparing the sofa for her to sleep in.

“Father Winchester lives with me, but he’s out on a seminar,” he explained to her. “So it will be just you and me. Let me know if you need an extra blanket, the room can get a little bit chilly…”

He trailed off when he turned to look at her again. She had put down her backpack and taken off her coat. She was wearing a shirt that was too flimsy for the middle of winter and the bruise on her face looked more grotesque in the cold light of his kitchen.

Despite that, she was still smiling, but Castiel thought he saw the edge of her lips twitching.

“Well, you haven’t changed one bit,” she commented. “Still trying to help us sinners, down on our luck…”

“That is kind of a job requirement these days,” Castiel admitted, pulling nervously from his collar.

“Right.” Meg laughed. “All that talk about God when we were kids. Didn’t really think you’d go for it full time.”

“I…” Castiel began, but decided not to continue.

It was strange. He had known Meg since they were old enough to say hi to each other over the sides of the fences that separated their homes. When they were children, they would often play together and Meg would stay in his home and sleep on his bedroom’s floor or up on his bed. She didn’t like going home, especially when her dad had been drinking.

“I don’t like it when he shouts,” she’d told Castiel. “It’s scary. He starts throwing things and I’m afraid he’ll hurt me.”

Those were heavy things for a child to confide in one another. Castiel was only seven years old and he’d handled it the best way he could.

“Don’t be afraid, Meg. God and his angels are watching over you. That’s what Father Singer always says.”

Meg had given him a skeptical look.

“If I pray to God, do you think my dad will stop drinking?”

“Yes,” Castiel had said, with the conviction only a child could hold. “I’m sure of it. God can do anything.”

Meg had prayed with him, but her dad hadn’t stopped drinking or throwing things at the wall. By the time they’d grown into teenagers, Meg had begun avoiding him and barely even spoke to him, even though they shared the same route back and forth from school. She’d started wearing a leather jacket, smoking behind the bleachers and skipping class.

“That girl is a terrible influence, Castiel,” Naomi, his mother, had told him. “I better not catch you spending time with her. And to think she used to be such a sweet little girl…”

Castiel hadn’t told Naomi that it wasn’t Meg’s fault that she wasn’t a sweet girl anymore. It hurt him too, the fact she had grown to be like this, but he still had faith that his friend could change after all.

That was why he had waited for her the next Friday. He had seen her sneaking out of her window almost every night and he knew when she’d do it. He’d waited on the backyard until the light in her window went out and then, like a shadow, she’d hanged outside and jumped to the ground.

“Meg,” he’d called her.

Meg had frozen, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. But then she’d squared her shoulders and her bravado had returned.

“What do you want, Clarence?”

She’d started calling him that a few years before. Castiel never asked her what she meant by it.

“I know you’re going with Casey and Lilith to that party with college boys,” Castiel had told her. Their hometown was small and gossip ran rampant, so it wasn’t hard to find out things like that.

“Yeah, so?” she’d asked, tilting her head. “What? You wanna come? You’re tired of being momma’s nice little boy?”

“No, I…” He’d shook his head and looked up at her. “I don’t want you to go. It could be dangerous.”

She’d huffed and thrown her hair back.

“It’s just a party, Cas, come on. I’ve been to lots.”

“Yes, but, Meg… this could be bad. God doesn’t want you to…”

He’d been startled when Meg’s cruel snicker interrupted his words.

“God?” she’d repeated coldly. “You remember when you told me God would make my life less shitty?”

“Meg…”

“I prayed to him like you said!” she’d pointed out. “Every night, Castiel! And what has God ever done for me, huh?”

“That’s not how this works. You have to have faith even when things are hard.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything!” Meg had replied, taking a step backwards. “And much less for you.”

He’d called her out again, but she’d quickly disappeared into the darkened street, towards where her friends were waiting to drag her into a den of sin and iniquity.

Castiel had been so self-righteous, thinking that if Meg didn’t want to be saved, then there was nothing he could for her. But he should’ve tried harder. He should’ve talked to her, listened to her. He didn’t know she didn’t need someone preaching to her about sin and how to live her life. Maybe if he had just been her friend, if he’d just been there for her…

The last time he’d seen her had been the day after their graduation. He'd spotted her crossing her front yard, with a bag around her shoulder, her head held high and proud. Her father had stood on the doorway, yelling:

“Well, you better be ready to never come back, you ungrateful little bitch!”

Meg hadn’t looked back. She’d just tossed her bag inside of her old second hand Cougar and sped down the street.

Castiel had assumed he’d never see her again.

But there she was, standing in front of him, looking like she’d had a rough night (a rough couple of nights, even) and she was barely keeping it together now.

He instinctively extended a hand towards her face, but she flinched, so he put it back down.

“I’ll get you some ice for that bruise,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He could feel her eyes boring into him as he rummaged through his freezer.

“You’re not going to ask me how I got it?”

Castiel grabbed some ice cubes, wrapped them in a cloth and approached her again.

“I assumed you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Slowly, as if he was dealing with a skittish animal that would run away if he made any brusque movements, he lifted the ice and placed it against her cheek. Meg closed her eyes and leaned into it. The smiled had disappeared from her lips, and there were tears brimming in her eyelashes.

“Meg…” he muttered, not sure how to follow that sentence, but he didn’t have to. Meg took a step forwards and hid her face on his chest as she began sobbing, deep, slow sobs that she had been holding back for who knew how long. Castiel put the ice down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and running his fingers through her hair.

There was a time when people crying like this would make him uncomfortable and he would try to make them stop at all costs. He had learned since that people sometimes didn’t need or want to be consoled. They just needed to let out everything.

So held Meg tight and gently rocked her back and forh while she let everything out, her tears wetting his shirt, her hands clutching his shoulders like he was a piece of wood in the middle of her wreckage. He didn’t know how long they stayed like this, but at some point, Meg calmed down enough that he could guide her to the couch and sat her down.

“Do you want a glass of water?” he offered her.

“Yes. Please,” she croaked.

She seemed a lot better when he brought it to her. She took two long gulps and sighed.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” she commented.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Castiel sat down on the coffee table in front of her and watched her closely.

“Right,” she muttered. Again she smiled and pointed at his collar.

“I would help you even if I wasn’t a priest,” Castiel assured her. “You’re my friend, Meg.”

Meg nodded and took another sip of water. She seemed hesitant, like she wanted to talk, but she didn’t know where to begin. Castiel had seen that same expression in the face of many hesitant parishioners. He knew the best way to get at the heart of a confession in moments like this was to go the long way around it.

“How did you find me?”

“I Googled you,” she admitted. “It wasn’t hard. Guess they wanted the best looking priest to be the face of the church, huh?”

Castiel was startled a little. He wasn’t used to people openly commenting about his looks, especially not since he had taken the vows. Meg, being a non-believer, clearly didn’t have those hang-ups.

“Uh… thank you?” he muttered.

She smiled again. A sincere smile this time, as if she was amused at his discomfort.

The next question was just as obvious, but Castiel didn’t have to say it out loud.

“I had nowhere else to go, Cas,” she said, lowering her voice. “I… I’m kind of in a bit of a mess right now.”

“You can tell me about it. Or not, if you would prefer to…”

Meg stayed quiet for a long time and then took another sip.

“I’m pregnant,” she announced.

Castiel had not been ready for that confession. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Oh,” he muttered, pathetically.

“Yeah.” Meg sighed. “And the father is… he’s not a good guy, Cas. I had been planning to get the hell out for a while, but I didn’t know where I'd go or what I'd do… then I found this out and it was kind of a now or never, you know?”

“Yes. I see.” Castiel cleared his throat. “Does he… does he know?”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” Meg replied, so Castiel assumed she had run away without mentioning this to her boyfriend. He nodded.

“What are you going to do?”

Meg laughed again, a mirthless and tired sound.

“I was hoping you’d tell me. Because honestly, I have no idea. And like, aren’t you supposed to have a direct line to God or some shit?”

Castiel fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, then moved to sit by her side on the couch.

“It’s not quite like that,” he admitted. “When we were children, it was… I thought it was all so clear cut and easy. There were things that were right and there were things that were wrong and God wanted us to do what was right and that was it. It’s ironic that when I decided to dedicate my life to His service, I found out things are not quite like that. I have seen a lot of the world, people who have suffered so much and now… I have questions. I have doubts.”

“Well, look at you!” Meg exclaimed, moving closer to him on the couch. “Welcome to living life like the rest of us.”

She was so close to him. Her sweet brown eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her full lips forming a smirk despite the circumstances. She was mesmerizingly beautiful and Castiel felt a pang of guilt for thinking like that. Not only because it was against his vows, but because she had come to him looking for his friendship and advice. He put those thoughts aside.

“As a priest, I’m supposed to tell you that all life is a gift and a miracle, no matter if it comes to us from horrible circumstances. I should tell you that this is a chance that God is sending you to give your life over to someone, that you should embrace it despite your fear and that it won’t be easy, but that He’ll be watching over you.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Meg said. She looked away, but Castiel put a hand over hers to get her to look at him again.

“But as your friend,” he continued, “I’m going to say that I won’t judge you for any decision you make. That what’s important is that you’re safe and you’re happy and I will try to help you. No matter what you choose to do.”

Meg’s eyes scanned his face, as if she was looking for something. Whatever it was, she seemed to find it, because she nodded.

“Thank you,” she said again.

She moved closer and once more, Castiel noticed that she was beautiful, even in her pain and despair. He cleared his throat.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need to, of course,” he said, so fast the words almost run over one another on his tongue. “It’s… it’s late now. You should try and get some rest.”

It was a clumsy way to end the conversation. But she was tired and he was in a bit of a jumble. How was he going to explain this to Sam when he came back from the seminar? He was kind and generous and always willing to help, but still…

He threw his clothes into the laundry basket and stared at himself in the bathroom’s mirror for a very long time. He was doing nothing wrong. He was just aiding a friend, who happened to be of the female gender. There was nothing on his vows against that.

He took the heavy chain with the cross he kept around his neck and set it on his night-table. He set his head down on his pillow and muttered his nightly prayer before closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

He was unsuccessful, because he was still wide awake when he heard a knock on his door.

Meg had washed her face in the downstairs bathroom and changed into a white night gown, her bleach blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She looked like a bit of a vision in the dim streetlight pouring in through the window.

“Can I sleep with you?”

Suddenly Castiel was acutely aware he was only wearing a sweatshirt and pajama pants and that didn’t seem nearly enough clothes.

Meg also seemed to realize suddenly what her words had sounded like, because she blushed and chuckled uncomfortably.

“I mean… just sleep. You know, like, when we were kids… and I’d stay over at your house and… you know what, you’re right. It’s weird. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll go back to the couch.”

“Wait.”

Castiel called her before she had even turned around. Meg stood paralyzed where she was while he searched his soul and couldn’t find a single reason to object to this.

“My… my bed is a little narrow,” he stuttered. “I’m not… I’m not sure you’ll be too comfortable.”

“Doesn’t matter. I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

And what could he say to that?

The bed really did a little too small for two people, but they managed. They laid said by side, close enough that Castiel could feel the heat coming from her body. But just the thought to stretch his hands towards her and touch her in any way made it feel like she was miles away.

Meg stared at him, her eyes big in the dim room.

“You’ve changed, Clarence,” she muttered.

“A lot can happen in ten years.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Meg made a pause and then, slowly, she lifted up her hand and placed it on top of his, on the pillow between their faces. Castiel felt a shiver going down his spine, but instead of pulling away, he opened his hand and let their fingers intertwined together.

“I like the way you are now, though,” Meg whispered.

Her eyes fluttered shut, as if only now she was giving into her weariness. Castiel stayed awake, listening to her breathing in the dark for the longest time.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. He also couldn’t find it in himself to care.


End file.
